Beauty and the Beast-Revisited
by Nightingale-of-the-Redrose
Summary: A different take on the oldest of tales. Helene Bellerose is a young woman forced by lifes' conditions to live in the isolated village of Desrosiers, owned by a cold-hearted landlord noone has seen in a very long time. How will this Beauty meet the Beast? And most importantly, how will she love him? Read and find out! (the names are changed from the originals)
1. Chapter 1

Greetings to all! This is my very first attempt at fanfiction. The story that follows is inspired by the story 'Beauty and the Beast', which I based on Disneys' version. My approach will be a little darker than its' colorful animated counterpart. It is set in an alternate universe, though I kept some french hues as you will notice in names and the like. Let me know what you think!

Abbreviations:

Monsieur= M. / Madame= Mme. / Mademoiselle= Mlle.

Enjoy and of course **R&amp;R!**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The sun was setting as I collected the last dry sheet. Despite having washed them in the early morning, they had already dried. It was a relatively hot day, summer still here but steadily fading away. There was no mistaking it, autumn was upon us. As if to prove my thoughts, a gush of wind from the North blew at that point creating ruffles in my dress; a modest dress in blue hues, that had been sewn, along with a handful of others, just for me, by a very beloved person. As I bent to pick up the overused laundry basket, I couldn't help but sigh a little at the memory of my mother. In these final hours of the day, with a background of a setting sun, I had a few moments of peace, since all the work of the day was officially over.

In these moments, I often found myself longing for her soothing presence. She had passed away five years ago, yet I still expected her to be sitting in the kitchen inspecting a stew, while reading some classic or other. My heart still fell a little, every time I entered the house and found the kitchen cold and empty.

Passing by that hollow hole of a room and climbing the stairs to the bedrooms, I immediately felt grateful that at least I had my father; albeit a little out of his mind. Being an inventor, of sorts, does that to you I suppose; crazy the villagers said; brilliant I liked to think, even though none of his inventions hadn't actually worked yet. But in order to create things anew, you had to think differently than everyone else didn't you?

Opening the door to my room, I headed towards the bed to begin the tedious task of folding the sheets, before placing them in the closet.

My life wasn't much. It certainly was not what I wanted it to be. After my mothers' death I had to move back from the boarding school both my parents painstakingly were able to send me to. They wanted a better education for me, to be brought up like a lady and cultivate my mind. Of course, they could only pay for a limited amount of the tuition; the bigger half being covered by our landlord. It was tradition in the village for an annual competition to be held, the winner of which was to earn three quarters of tuitions' cost, and be send to Madam Beauvoirs' School for Ladies, if you were a girl, and to Master Voltaires' School for Gentlemen, if you were a boy.

However, there usually weren't many winners, due to the lack of candidates, since all hands were needed at home. The downfall of living in the country was that everything had to be done manually. Everything. Milk the cows, sew the clothes, tend to the houses' cleaning, tend to the garden, feed the chicken, collect the eggs, cook, clean the clothes; the chores really never ended.

And so it was that very few people had the time, let alone the mind, to think of such matters and spare a child or two for knowledge and education.

For some reason, though, my own parents, even before I was born, had decided unanimously to educate me. They had tried their best to prepare me for the test with the little means they had; my mother owning a small stack of classical books, which she inherited from her father, and my father with whatever he could get his hands on, usually from the limited local bookstore (borrowing of course).

I eventually passed the test, although I have to admit there was little to no competition at all; the only other two participants were there to cheat in order to take the money. A common practice, which consequently elicited a very austere evaluation; namely they would throw out anyone who so much as moved on one side or another. I couldn't blame them; the money was for a certain purpose after all, but I couldn't help but realize just how far away from us villagers was our landlord. People in need would do anything and everything to get by.

It didn't help of course that the test was held in early February, with the winter having used up all of summers' products and with hunger claiming numerous lives each year. And there was our landlord, who could spare a few thousand gold pieces for someone _else_ to get a decent _education! _It was scandalous if you thought about it; as nearly all of the villagers often voiced this outrageousness in the local tavern, if this high and mighty individual could give so much money for something abstract and certainly not necessary or life-saving, why wouldn't he help the village produce more and better products? Maybe built a road or two, or, and this was the main topic of discontent and restlessness, lessen the monthly rent.

For we also had to pay a certain sum of silver pieces each month to the ruler of this unimportant piece of land high up in the mountains, just to have the right to remain in the region. There weren't few instances where people unable to afford the land they had lived in for generations, were sent away. With not so much as second glance.

In many aspects, you could say we lived under a coldblooded tyrant. From what I knew, he owned the two neighboring villages as well. All in all, his domain expanded across three villages, which were relatively close to one another; not including his own castle, situated on top of a big hill that overlooked our settlement. Part of the surrounding forest was also his as a hunting ground and, on certain parts of it, the villagers were forbidden to hunt in it.

I did, however appreciate the fact that he would help with educating anyone who wanted a place in a school, though I wouldn't deny that he could put his wealth in better use, than let it lie there, increasing by the minute.

Our village was quite frankly falling apart. It needed repairs everywhere and anywhere. And we were also in dire need of a new bridge. The current condition of Vieuxpont (that was the name of the hundred year old stone bridge) made it impossible to travel to the other villages and sell what little we produced. The river flowing underneath was vast and extremely deep, with currents so strong, that even though it was the slimmest part of it, the old construction was half a mile long. Especially in the winter, snow and ice covered every inch and as a result no carriage or even horse could cross it.

Fortunately, our hard working steed honored the name he was given by my father: Victor was able to instinctively tread carefully over that death trap and always deliver me safe to our destination and back again. Father had been adamant in buying him, when he was only months old, by a traveling gypsy group ten years ago. One look at his inherit big hooves and he knew that he would be an enormous help to the house. Papa has yet to be proven wrong. The odd part was that the gypsies thought the young one was going to be a disappointment, due to him being born scrawny and sickly, and so had offered a very good price to get rid of him.

My father always had a knack for perceiving things others were blind to. He knew the horse was stubborn as hell and would, by sheer force of will, grow out of his unlucky birth to become an indispensible asset to wherever he would end up. And that he was to us.

Personally, I always had the notion that papa-Sebastian really bought him for me. He was a sucker for the desires of a daughter, and upon finding out that I simply adored these four legged massive creatures, I understand now, that he was set on finding one for me; although he never said anything about indulging in my whims. It was common knowledge in our little house that Victor was mostly mine, which meant of course that he was my responsibility as well. I didn't mind. He was such a kind creature and so helpful to the daily tasks, that I loved taking care of him. I always sensed a sort of gratitude emanating from him towards us (mostly towards my father), for believing in him at first glance; for accepting him before he even proved his worth.

Since my mother had passed away, they were the only family I had left; I couldn't bear to part with them. I did, however, find myself yearning to live past the boundaries of our village and of the toilsome living. Our troubles were mainly of what to eat and drink each day, a fact that left little room for challenging the mind beyond such primary needs and topics.

On the one hand I was happy to be back with my closest family (which included Victor), but on the other hand, I was missing excitement in my dull life. Constantly worrying if you will have food on the table the next day quickly wore you out and left you with desiring other things to occupy yourself with.

You would think that these "sublime" musings would occur rarely if ever; but as the days turned into months which turned into years, I found myself more and more eager to dream of adventures at sea, encounters with people from faraway lands, being caught in romances of any kind (forbidden was my favorite), going so far as to openly daydream whilst doing my chores. Every chance I got, I would lose myself in more colorful worlds, either by reading any book I could find or by thinking about what I read in said book.

Needless to say, I had developed the rumor of being "odd". People would stare at me for walking to the town market with a basket for the few groceries we could afford, on one hand, and my nose buried deep in the pages of a worn out book. They would shake their heads as I passed, muttering "what do you expect from weird-Sebastian's daughter" and "poor thing can't help herself, with such bad, unnatural influences".

They thought I wouldn't notice their disapproving glances; but I did. And although I knew I shouldn't care of what everyday people with little experience of the world beyond this godforsaken village in the mountains, thought of me, it still didn't exactly help me develop any friendships, besides the family horse.

Huffing in annoyance, I closed the closet door and dumped the empty laundry basket in the corner of my room, where I usually kept it, and went to fetch the two books I had finished reading in order to return them to the bookstore I borrowed them from, all the while resolving not to let anyone break my spirits about who I or my father was. After all, townsfolk always spoke ill of something they couldn't comprehend, and rejected it with little afterthought. Why should we give them more power by trying to prove them wrong?

Taking off my apron and hanging it on the hook behind the front door, I picked the two books off the kitchen table and put them in the small market basket I always took with me to the town square. Pausing for a moment to wear me dark blue cloak (it was chilly now after the sun went down), I exited the house closing the door firmly behind me and descending the seven stairs of the small porch.

Before setting off I let my father know I was leaving, yelling towards the basement, where he spend all his hours working on his invention.

"Okay, Helene! Be sure to take Azor with you! Be careful!" I heard him shout from beneath the basement door.

"Will do!" I answered and quickly whistled for our enormous black dog to tag along. He could put anyone down if he sensed a threat and was a constant companion of mine every time I went to the village, especially after dark had fallen. He was mainly a house guard but my father insisted he accompanied me whenever I left the house. Again my social group comprised of only farm animals. What a gripping life!

And so we set out disappearing in the little forest in front of our house. We lived on the outskirts of the village, which made the presence of a guard dog necessary, since foxes would normally raid our chicken house, with the occasional sightings of a wolf or two, circling our little farm and eyeing our livestock, as winter rolled up.

* * *

It was a pleasant albeit short walk, so we arrived relatively quickly.

The villagers were just closing up their houses and small shops, with the exception of the tavern which ran almost through all the night, since it was the only form of entertainment; for the male population that is. The women would sit home and take care of the little ones, either returning from playing outside or, if they were a bit older, from working in the fields.

I made my way straight to the bookstore that was about to close up, all the while nodding to any person who would pass by greeting me. Despite everything they thought and said about my family and myself, they were still friendly; I mean let's face it, we were in this toilsome hardship called life together. And the fact that they didn't forget that, made living here tolerable.

'Ah, mlle. Helene welcome! I expected you to come today, although not so late I must confess.'

' Nice to see you again m. Pierre. I know, I know, I got caught up in some last chores that needed to be done before the sun set. I won't take long though; I just wanted to return these.' I said to the pleasant bookstore owner. He was the only one that did not think ill of my father and who appreciated my zeal for books. I liked him the best out of everyone in our little isolated village. Quite frankly, I could have a decent conversation with him, involving topics other than milking cows and goats, or stitching worn out clothes. In many ways I was immensely grateful for his presence.

'Yes of course, child, take all the time you need'. Pierre Abelard was an easygoing, middle-aged man with white hair and beard, who always wore a hat and never went anywhere without carrying his watch and glancing at it now and then. He was obsessed with keeping track of time, as if he had millions of appointments to attend to; remnants from a bygone age during which he used to live in the city. He had told me once, that he used to work in the library of a very important institution, the name of which he refused, to this day, to reveal to me.

There were, however, rumors (weren't there always?) that the landlord himself had snatched him up from his comfortably situated life and brought him here, forced him to marry a girl from our village and gave him this building to run as a bookstore. Pierre now had three boys, all over ten years of age, who would help their father with transporting numerous books from one village to another, in order to enrich the collection of the store. His eldest was currently in the middle of negotiating a purchase of a series of encyclopedias in one of our neighboring settlements. He was expected to return by the end of the week.

All in all, I had decided that m. Pierre was an enigma of a being, since his origins were shrouded in mystery and, most importantly, he was set on not revealing any details of his past.

He did, however, allow for me to borrow the books in his store. An admirer of my love for reading, he didn't have it in his heart to deprive me of the pleasure of it.

As I let the two books down on the counter, I noticed the one book I wanted to borrow for some time now. It was a classic of sorts; a tale of how a beastly man found love, despite all odds, by a beautiful woman who could see the true beauty of people; a tale as old as time (and one of my favorites) about the ability to overcome external appearances and really see what was truly within.

I had borrowed it many times and still never bore of it; noticing my train of thought m. Pierre interrupted my musings:

'You know we are in dire need of some fresh eggs at home, Helene. What say you I sell that book to you for a dozen of your finest?' he was very discreet, I had to admit.

'Are you sure? It really doesn't matter that much.' I said hesitantly, a little bit of indignation flaring inside at the latent charity; I didn't like being in anyone's debt like that; it gave them power over me I despised.

He sensed my abstinence, though, and good-hearted as he was, started to reassure me:

'I really need the eggs, child, money isn't really as important when you have three grown men to feed at home.' He half-joked; his boys were, in fact, pretty enormous.

I smiled and accepted his offer, adding:

'Only if you let me give you some milk as well.'

He accepted gracefully and handed me the book. Silently trying to hide the excitement of actually owning one of my favorites, I took it and placed tenderly in my basket.

Now don't get me wrong, I did occasionally buy a book from the store; namely on special occasions such as birthdays or Christmas. But the few I had home, I had read at least four times each and that was the reason why I would borrow some now and then.

'Thank you very much m. Pierre. I will deliver the eggs and milk first thing tomorrow. Have a nice night!' I said exiting the store, the bell above the door ringing softly as I opened the door.

'Goodnight mlle. Helene! Give my best to your father!' he said in return, as the door shut firmly behind me.

I gestured for Azor to follow me. He had been waiting for me patiently by the door, lying on his fore paws. Pulling my hood up again above my head, I patted the faithful companion on the head lightly. My heart beating in delight at acquiring a new book, we set out into the night heading towards home.


	2. Chapter 2

Greetings once again!

Here is the second chapter. I went a little out of the orgignal plot-line, since I wanted to explore the story from the Beasts' point of view as well. To help you understand how I envisioned the form he would transform in, search for the name 'Ulquiora' from the anime/manga Bleach (for those of you unfamiliar with this adorable character). I based my Beast on him, because I wanted to focus on the saddness of his circumstanses and not just the ferocity (like Disney did choosing a Chimera-like form).

Hope you enjoy it! And don't forget to **R&amp;R**!

* * *

Chapter 2

I watched intently as she slowly drifted to sleep. Her grip on the book loosened while her other hand lay limply on her side. She had leaned her head back and let her lush brown hair trail on one side into loose curls. The very picture of total abandonment was completed when her lips parted just a fracture and her breathing became steady.

She certainly wasn't the prettiest woman I had laid eyes on, but I had to admit she had some sort of charm (not of the kind that would tempt me, however). Of course, she was much far better looking than me; then again everyone was. Looking across the room to my reflection in the window, I was again reminded of my hideous form. Indignation flared and throwing the enchanted mirror aside, I launched at the offending glass creation and effectively shattered it.

The small pieces of glass were no hazard to me, since my feet were long since flesh-less. Whimpering in despair, I tugged forcefully at the hood of my cloak trying to hide every inch of my face. Nearly ripping it, I hunched my back and tried to fold into myself, wishing for the utmost time to disappear; I crouched down entirely and rocking back and forth I tried to regain control of my raging emotions; despair being the most gut-wrenching of them all.

It wasn't subsiding though; and so I started lashing out at objects that were once utilized for humanly functions. Crying out in anger and frustration, I tossed around what remained of my furniture, reducing it to scraps. I didn't mind the broken glass on the floor or the broken wood; that was the problem: nothing could injure me; and I desperately needed to alleviate the pain and manifest it into a physical form of it. Nothing could pierce my skin, however, since there was none left to begin with. I had only some form of exoskeleton that covered every inch of my body.

The part I couldn't stand at all, though, was the state my face was in; a deathly white setting for black eyes which surrounded a phosphorescent stare of what was once my blue eyes. To top it all off, thick deep black lines ran from my eyes down the side of both my cheeks, marking the path my first tears burned when I saw my reflection. These trails grew over the years with every tear I shed, until I used them all up. Anger and desperation appeared since then, and they have been my constant companions.

It had started seven years ago, on a very cold and very snowy night on Christmas Eve. An old beggar woman had come to seek shelter from the terrible weather, offering as payment a single rose; but I had turned her down; twice. The third time I opened my door, instead of finding an old woman, I came face to face with an enchantress of such striking beauty I was rendered speechless.

'You have no kindness left in your heart, prince' she had accused 'therefore, you lack true beauty. I will, however, grant the gift you so shunned: you shall earn your beauty back, if you are able to find love and if love is able to find you, before the last petal of this shunned rose falls.'

Her otherworldly voice still plagues my mind.

There was, however, an additional consequence; I was not the only one who was cursed. Anyone who was under my command was also affected. My butler, cook and all other servants, were cursed to be trapped in the in-between. Keeping _their _looks, they were condemned to disappear whenever their services were not needed; reduced to what their occupation defines them as, they were stripped of any other prospective in life. As if frozen in time they didn't even age a day.

The odd thing was that they did not think ill of me or grow to despise and hate me. Given that my time was running out and I would probably fail to break the curse, they seemed unfazed by the fact that they will be forever lost in-between dimensions, as shadows of what they used to be.

Of course, I haven't spoken to them for a very long time. Looking down at my body I took off my cloak and threw it aside to see; my entire body had turned into a marble-like flesh. As a result all my bodily functions had ceased. I had no need for food or water. My breathing continued but mostly out of habit; I didn't need the air I breathed. And so my need for servants was no more. I hadn't seen them in almost a year now.

I think.

Of course, it could be mere months or just days. Or it may even be years. I had no consciousness of time. I couldn't bring myself to care anymore.

With my claw-like hand I clutched at the only part of my body that still was a healthy human color; the skin over my heart; it was the only organ still beating; sometimes so hard that it was the only thing audible in the entire grounds of the castle. Scratching the skin on the surface for the millionth time, I drew just a few drops of blood; I desperately needed to remind myself I could still feel something from the outside world. That some sort of stimulus could reach me. Pain was the only thing I could elicit and remind me I still inhabited this earthly plane.

Heaving heavily, I dropped my distorted hands to my sides and, with my hair falling in front of me (it was extremely long since I never cared to cut it), I stared at my equally distorted feet; they looked almost dinosaur-like, minus the flakes.

There were times, particularly in the early morning, on the verge of waking up, when you're in-between realms, that I almost believe that everything was a dream; that I was never turned into a monster , or that I had offered shelter when it was needed. Of course I always woke up to the gut-wrenching reality of my predicament.

Gazing ahead towards the long gone veranda glass-door, I fixed my eyes on the black night sky. The stars were out again shining brightly, and mesmerized as I was by their excellence, I walked slowly to the terrace. Knocking over anything in my way, my abnormally elongated form made its way under the stars.

I could only stare blankly up at them, having lost the will to cry out to them, demanding answers, as I once did; to lash out at them for not granting my wish; to accuse them for ignoring my prayers; and then to beg them all over again to help me lift the curse.

The terrace to my room had always been a sacred place for me. A place I came to pray for wellbeing, or to dream of my future and to get away from my present and past.

It was my mother who had introduced this to me, when I was but five years of age.

Every night, before tucking me into bed, she would bring me out here and encourage me to voice all my fears, regrets, hopes and dreams to the stars. According to her, they would always help me of I was a good boy and only asked for good things.

However, she did not have the time to teach me what exactly was good and bad, right and wrong (the distinction of which, as you grow older, start to faze with each other and are almost never clear).

Shortly after my tenth birthday she was found dead in her quarters. My father, having woken up earlier, hadn't realized what had happened, until he was alerted that her majesty was still in bed. He had rushed to their bedroom and had found her still form in the exact position he had left it in earlier.

He was devastated; more so because we never knew what had caused her untimely death. She wasn't sick, or weak. Our physicians were at a loss as to what could have happened; they concluded that she just went to sleep and had never woken up; that her heart had just stopped beating.

At the memory my own heart clenched in agony.

After that, I used to come up to the terrace to beg the stars for my mother to come back to me; a fact that had been noticed and dubbed as odd. My father was notified and, never having recovering from the loss of his beloved wife, had ordered me to stop acting out of the ordinary and forbade me to use the balcony after night-fall. I never listened to him for I never stopped believing that if I pray harder, the stars would finally grant my wish and bring her back.

Needless to say they never did.

Eventually I stopped praying and then stopped coming out to the terrace altogether; especially since my fathers' life had also been claimed. I was about thirteen when he was fatally injured on a routine hunting trip in the nearby woods. That's when I lost all belief into what my mother had taught me so long ago. Not that I was close with my father (he had a very strict way in loving you), but I still felt his loss like another blow to the heart.

For the next two years my fathers' vain and cruel sister, aunt Bisette, had come to look after her orphaned nephew. Of course, I realized later, she only wanted to get her hands on my inheritance.

I hated her profoundly; she had a way of making you feel, at one glance, that you were worth nothing if you were not of a certain degree of beauty.

Yes, Bisette Armistead did not approve of mediocre appearances, and even seemed offended, if one such individual addressed her in any way. She was especially ruthless to the servants, if for whatever reason she thought they looked at her strangely, and as result, threw tantrums of epic proportions. Locked away in my room, I never took part in anything.

I was more than happy to let that harpy have everything, since I was not interested in what would become of my life.

However, when the curse fell, things changed; one look at me and she was out the door running for her life. Not being under my employment (she may have been a guardian, but she wasn't the primary lord of the grounds) she was left untouched by the curse.

She fled to where she came from and, since then, no news has arrived from her; she probably kept everything to herself, ashamed of being related to a monster.

Good riddance. I preferred my solitude; people were so accustomed to letting me down that I had grown very impatient when dealing with them…

A startled hitch of breath interrupted my less than joyful musings. Turning abruptly and staring into the room, I wondered who had dared entered it. For a moment (a very hopeful moment) I thought that just maybe one of my servants had appeared; that maybe I still unconsciously needed them for something (proving I was still human).

However, there was no one there; no one who could sound startled for sure.

But when I heard another sound (like a hollow thud) I hurried back in the room, turning everything upside down searching for the intruder; and then I understood. It was the enchanted mirror.

As a window to the outside world, the Enchantress had given it to me. I didn't see its' worth, though, because being able to see whomever I wished, didn't exactly help my situation.

Don't get me wrong, I _did_ use it. It helped spy on the villagers and discern what they thought had happened to the castle and its' residents. It turned out, they hadn't a clue. They only spread harmless gossip of the sort of 'our master is a little "high and mighty" '. Their constant complaint was the rent they all had to pay; a fact that, I must confess, I had no idea of.

I had never asked them for anything. To whom they were paying rent, I had no knowledge of; nor did I care, frankly. As long as they left me alone I didn't mingle in their business.

I did, however, strike a deal with _one_ individual from their midst.

He was dubbed an "out-of-sorts" man by his peers, but his daughter seemed to have a different opinion of him; of course, she seemed to have a different opinion on everything. She went around declaring her father to be an inventor, and, when confronted she would say that "in order to create something anew, you had to think differently than everyone else"; then she would proceed to stand up for her parent with such intense stubbornness that, I had to admit, annoyed me.

I agreed with her, though, and after accepting the bold father who had come up here and had entered, without fear, my hollow, pathetic excuse for a castle, we stroke a deal: he would come up with a machine that could effectively dig in search of precious metals in the abandoned mines on the outskirts of the village, situated in the heart of the mountain, and I would allow him to keep 50% of the profits.

A deal he was adamant on making with me. Sebastian Bellerose hadn't backed down in front of my initial wrath and refusal (and believe me, I had made it abundantly clear I didn't want anything to do with him). All throughout my tantrum he remained calm, not once wincing in fear of my abnormally tall and cloaked form, stating again and again the mutual profit we would gain and how much better off the entire village would be, if the local mines (abandoned for years) were to be exploited. He didn't seem to notice I had no interest in profiting from anything; the outside world had become of no consequence; since it clearly did not hold any of its love for me. I had started to think that the Enchantress had lied and had only cursed me out of spite and sheer resentment.

The inventor hadn't backed down and, just wanting him to get out of my fortress of solitude, I accepted and allowed him to do whatever he wanted with the mines.

My interest, though, was intrigued after spying on his progress; he was more brilliant than I had originally thought. Without knowing it, I had begun to feel something I hadn't felt in a long time; something akin to hope (of what I could not tell). I found myself spending a lot of time watching Sebastian's attempt to construct a machine strong enough to extract any kind of precious ore.

Thus, I was inevitably caught watching his daughter as well; even if I wanted to I couldn't avoid observing her though.

She was everywhere; either assisting him or bringing him food, tea or a blanket when he fell asleep on his drawing board. I slowly started to follow _her_ when she left her father's makeshift laboratory, to attend to other chores. I watched how she struggled every day with cleaning, tending to the little garden they had, or checking their chickens for eggs, milking their one and only cow and so on. I had seen enough of her to notice her love of books and her slight discomfort of having to return to her rural home, leaving whatever prospects she had left in the city.

Yes, I remembered Helene Bellerose as one of the few residents that had won the money for the tuition. Chevalier, one of my employees, was the only one who was needed by someone and was the one of my servants who manifested the most frequently. None of the villagers had noticed his appearance and disappearance, since, when they no longer needed him, they would leave and not seek him out further. They all were too preoccupied with day to day life and its hardships to notice or suspect anything.

I didn't mind that a certain portion of money was given out from time to time. I simply didn't occupy myself with anything going on in the village. I let Chevalier carry out his duties to whoever needed his services.

Picking up the discarded mirror, I looked into it for the hundredth time; she had fallen in her sleep and thankfully landed in her room and not out the window (how careless of her to fall asleep on a _window sill_). A little disoriented, she looked around and realized what had happened with a short shake of her head. Rubbing her left eye she closed the window and retired to her bed after blowing out the candle on her modest nightstand.

Tucking herself into bed she fell asleep immediately, as soon as her head touched the pillow. What I wouldn't give to sleep as soundly as her. It seemed sleep had eluded me and left me to deal with my demons all night _and_ day, never offering a few hours of rest and blissful ignorance.

Looking around my destroyed room, I searched for my cloak. I set the mirror aside leaving the stubborn inventors' daughter to her dreams, and covered my deathly form with the blackness of the cloth; my only form of clothing.

Heading towards the one piece of furniture I never lashed out on, I uncovered the shunned gift and my personal countdown; I had placed the rose under a glass lid; it just hovered in space eliciting an unearthly pink glow that filled the room. It had withered almost entirely, with just a handful of petals left; I spend endless hours staring at it blankly, searching for answers I knew I would never get. Yet I couldn't get enough of the sad beauty of it. Sinking to my knees I rested my head on my forearms and proceeded to indulge in my obsession of gazing at the otherworldly flower, hoping beyond hope….


	3. Chapter 3

Hello everyone! I hope I find you well!

In this chapter I returned to the original plotline and introduced my version of Gaston, Belle's father and another glimpse at Belle's mother.

Let me know what you think of them!

Just to clarify, chronologically, this chapter preceds the previous one.

Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the Reviews! They are profoundly appreciated!

**R&amp;R! **

* * *

Chapter 3

Helene's p.o.v. once she left the bookstore.

Approaching the woods was my least favorite part of walking home after dark. The tall trees looked almost menacing, their twisted leafless branches emphasizing the sinister atmosphere. The autumn fog, which now constantly formed at night, didn't exactly help alleviate my restlessness.

Tugging at my cloak, I tried to wrap it closer to my body; this unusual chill at night foretold a heavy winter. Without wanting to jinx it, I imagined it was going to be the coldest our village had yet to face.

Azor, sensing my uneasiness, came closer to walk beside me. I was grateful for his presence, but for some reason he was unusually not able to soothe me. A fact that had me perplexed; why would I feel so restless (dare I say scared?) this particular evening?

The path was one I walked every day since I could remember; sure the limited light of the moon, coupled with the light fog and the evil-looking trees painted a less than happy picture, but they remained familiar to me. They shouldn't frighten me.

That was when I saw an unexpected figure in the near distance start to take form. Admittedly, it was a small town and I was on one of the main roads (even though it hardly seemed like it) and I shouldn't be that surprised to encounter someone on it. But there were almost no people using it after the sun had set, and those who did occasionally, I knew all too well to not want to encounter.

Out of that small group did someone emerge; a certain someone I couldn't seem to shake off nowadays; who had taken a sudden interest in me, bringing up some, frankly, lame excuses for it.

Yes, the last person I wanted (ever) to see was becoming something of a nuisance (and also explained my slight panic attack earlier) and his name was Lestrange Bouchard. A quite glorious name you would think; it wasn't, believe me. And its bearer was even less glorious.

'Ah, there you are my love! I was just at your house looking for you.' He said approaching me. I didn't stop however to talk to him, but he came and stood in front of me blocking my way. 'You can imagine my surprise at my finding out you had left for the village center after dark and alone.' His voice came out as a drawl; no doubt he thought he sounded irresistible.

Admittedly, Lestrange was good-looking. More so than average with his tall muscular figure, strong chin and flowing dark hair. In many ways he was the village stud and every virgin's dream-man (even the married ones had a thing for him). But I just couldn't get over the fact that he was completely airheaded; he wasn't the brightest star in the sky and, additionally, his archaic beliefs about men-women relationships didn't quite sit well with me (to put it mildly).

'You should know that these kind of 'outings' are not going to be aloud once we're married.'

Remember the nuisance I was telling you about?

'Lestrange' I greeted, nodding curtly. 'As you can see I'm not alone' I added gesturing at Azor who had already half-bared his teeth at him. A low growl was emanating from the enormous guard-dog as a warning.

But I couldn't have him attack Lestrange. I had seen what the proud huntsman was capable of doing to any animal that he didn't like or had decided to kill. No one had ever said anything to him or even tried to stop him, since most of the villagers thought a man with a gun could kill any animal he chose. It was the only other form of entertainment, besides alcohol consumption for them.

'Yes indeed. That mutt is still alive and well, I see.' He said sizing Azor up with the well-known killing glint shining in his eyes. I put a protective hand on my guard's head trying to calm him down. If push came to shove, at least Lestrange would also count a few loses; Azor was quite passionate to protect.

'As always, nice to see you Lestrange, but I really should be going. My father will be worried.' I said desperately trying to end the encounter as quick as possible.

Stepping around him I was about to resume my walk, but, as always, things are never so simple.

He surprised me by snatching my basket from my arm. Opening it he rummaged through it looking curiously for what was inside. He was not too happy with what he found.

'A book?! That was why you were in town at this hour? Ha!' what followed was a violent explosion of laughter, which shook his massive form and made him drop my basket. Clutching his stomach he tried to regain composure, but failed miserably.

'Lestrabge, give me my book back. Stop acting like a five-year-old, will you?' I tried reaching out to take it back, but he held it above his head.

'_Your_ book? Don't you just _borrow_ these useless things? What sort of payment did you offer Pierre this time? Peanuts?' he laughed some more at my expense; apparently my lack of recourses amused him. Simple minded imbecile!

'None of this is any of your business, Lestrange, nor will it ever be'. I warned as I picked up my basket. I held my hand out waiting for my book, all the while unleashing my famous death-stare; I had scared more than one teachers with this inherit (courtesy to my mother) stare of mine.

'You shouldn't read books, Helene. They make you think about things. Thinking is never good for women.' He said full of repulsion, either to books or women, I couldn't tell. Or maybe he just wasn't fond of thinking altogether.

'And how exactly did you come to that conclusion? By _reading_, or by observing the world around you?' I asked, unable to completely mask the sarcasm in my voice. He didn't seem to notice however.

'By knowing that women's brain cannot understand things like a man's brain can, of course. Flimsy, little females can't even fire a gun or swing a sword! And they also can't even kill a squirrel if it's sitting in front of them!' his mind worked in very different ways; I didn't even have the will to talk to him more than was necessary.

Heaving heavily, I repeated my request more firmly than before, hoping I would get through to him. Eventually he dropped the book in my hand but not without adding:

'No matter. This will all change when you become my wife.'

'I'm not going to marry you, Lestrange. When will you finally get it through your head?' I looked away in order to place the book back in my basket and so missed his movement. His hand darted out again snatching mine. I let out a small yelp of surprise, enough to spur Azor into action. He started barking and sat at his rear legs ready to spur at the offending male.

'Azor no! Down!' I yelled yanking my arm trying to go near him and prevent him from jumping at Lestrange.

'Better keep that hazardous animal under control, Helene, or I will be forced to help deal with this threat of an animal.' His mouth was at my ear as he yanked me closer to him. Azor was about to lose his head from barking. He had obeyed to my command but was certainly not happy about it.

'Azor stay.' I repeated steadily before turning to the oaf that held my hand a little too tight than was comfortable.

'Let my hand go, Lestrange and he will stop. Continue to grip it like a mad man without my permission, and although we will lose the war you will lose an arm, a leg and an eye in the battle. Do I make myself clear, or do I need to spell it out for you?' my voice was steady; a low murmur only for him to hear. If someone would have seen us from afar, he would have thought we were having a lovers' conversation. My conviction, however, left no room for doubt, and even this delusional simpleton understood the truth of the threat.

He pulled his head back, eyeing me with speculation (as much as he could muster) and finally let me go.

'Very well. I'll forgive you this maidenly reserve. It's only natural. But that dog will be gone by the time we marry.' He said pointing at Azor, a snarl on his face. He wasn't bluffing; I knew that snarly twist to be his killing face.

Heading towards Azor to soothe him and stop his barking, I felt exasperated and almost to my limit. Which is why, as an afterthought, I regretted what I said at that moment.

'Why are you so fixed on marrying me?! I have repeatedly refused you in the past five months you decided to show your interest! What part of "I don't want to marry you" are you unable to comprehend?!' I was nearly screaming at his absurdity.

And then came the lame excuse I wasn't aware of, up to that moment.

'Why because you are the prettiest girl in the villge! You would look great next to me! I can't have some _cow_ marrying me!' he actually sounded excited at his statement.

My astonishment was such that I could only stare at him dumbfounded. _That_ was the reason he was pestering me for nearly half a year now? He thought I was the _prettiest_ in the village?

Now I knew how I looked. I owned mirrors. I also knew I was far from the prettiest among all the other girls in our settlement. He must have been a little dumber than I thought.

'You're delusional.' I could only mutter in awe. He didn't seem to hear me however, and instead, completely at ease with himself, send me home with a wave of his hand, as if dismissing me.

'Now run along, my love, you need your beauty-sleep in order to maintain that little face of yours. I am needed at the tavern for a late night discussion on our next hunting spree.' He eyed Azor at that last statement. The latter growled in return.

I continued to just stare at the man's retreating back, rooted on spot. The audacity of some people always rendered me speechless.

Shaking my head to clear it of its haze, I turned towards my house, an uneasy feeling creeping up my spine; Lestrange may be an idiot but he was also an extremely determined individual. I feared I wouldn't come out of this situation unscathed.

I arrived home on time to hear an explosion coming from the basement (which was turned into a makeshift laboratory), where I had left my father earlier. I rushed towards the hatch door leading to the foundation of our house and, yanking it open, I was greeted with an enormous amount of smoke.

Coughing violently, I raised my cloak above my mouth and nose, calling out my father's name in panic. Had he been close enough to get burned?

'I'm ok, dear! It was just a minor thing!' relieved, I rushed to where I heard his voice come from. The smoke had cleared now and as I helped him up, I saw that he had no serious injuries; just a few cuts and bruises.

'Are you sure you're fine?' I asked fretting a little; after losing one parent I was extremely protective of the one I had left. Although he wasn't always there as a conscious companion (he was usually a little out of it, muttering a formula or other) he was still present. I had developed a sort of paranoia for losing him.

'Yes, yes child I'm fine. I just put the wrong modulator that's all.' He sounded a little breathless in his reassurance; no more than usual, however. He always seemed out of breath lately; as if he had been running all the time. His movements were abrupt and forceful; as if agitated or nervous. I had no inclination as to why, though.

Helping him get up I immediately proposed we turn in for the night. He dismissed my offer and only said I should get some sleep and not wait for him. He apparently had to finish something up first. At my worried, uncertain expression he paused just to say:

'Worry not, my daughter. You're far too young to wear an expression like that.' His voice now a low murmur as he pated my head, before leaning in to plant a tender kiss on my forehead, as he always had done when wishing me goodnight.

'Your eyes should be free of weary shadows.' He added at last, more to himself than to me; it sounded like he was stating a vow; a conviction of sorts that renewed his determination. He turned to what looked to me as scraps of metal, and began rearranging its' parts with one of his tools in his right hand. He was very thin and tall, as if he had never fully grown into his body. With a slight hunch in his back and a head full of grey hair (nearly white) he presented the very image of weariness.

Deciding that he had regained control of his bearings I bid him goodnight, certain he would never retire to his room; no, I would find him sleeping once again over that contraption of his in the morning, his bed as empty as it had been for nearly five months.

Now that I thought of it, many things had changed in the aforementioned period of time. I was too tired to contemplate on that thought, however, so I made my way out of the basement and into the front yard, searching for my discarded basket. The poor thing had suffered excessively in the past hour (it was already falling apart).

Picking it up, I patted Azor once more in goodnight as he reclaimed his spot in front of the house steps.

Once inside, I let out a heavy sigh, I hadn't realized I was holding and took my cloak off. I would have to wash it first thing in the morning due to the smoke from the explosion.

As I lay my newly acquired book on the kitchen table, I decided to make use of a device my father had come up with. Using water from the well in our front yard, papa was able to transport a certain sum into a large basin situated over a stove adjoining the west side of the house. Once in there, the water would warm to a certain degree (fit for a nice hot bath), and then be transported to the room me and my father named "washroom", since it was only used to wash up.

Entering said room, which was next to the kitchen, I pulled the lever to check if there was water in the basin. With relief (and endless gratitude towards papa) I discovered that everything was prepared. Making a mental note to thank my father for thinking in advance to prepare the stove and heat the water, I quickly gathered all my utensils for bathing.

Soaps and fragrances, crèmes and oils, all recipes my mother had left behind. She had perfected the art of pampering and preserving health, youth, moisture and softness, using recipes my grandmother had, and, even perfecting them. Thanks to her my necessary rough rural life hadn't deprived me of soft skin and hair. Alexandrie Bellerose was absolute on matters of beauty, in the sense that a woman must never neglect herself, because once she starts losing interest into keeping her external appearance pleasing to her own eye, than she starts losing interest into her own femininity, thus, eventually, losing herself in life's hardships.

I understand now, that what my mother meant by preserving one's outer appearance was not to be vain or shallow, but rather, to never reach a point where any woman would feel not worthy of being desired or, even, loved. She believed that if a woman _feels_ clean and soft and smooth, no insecurities will ever plague her mind and soul.

Chamomile and honey, lavender, olive oil, vanilla-extract, all were combined in such a precise way that provided nourishment and even rejuvenation for the hardworking body. In a world of agriculture, youth is seldom and painstakingly preserved after eighteen years of age, and it had become a habit of mine to apply these products after bathing. I had to admit it felt good.

I was eternally grateful to my mother for a myriad of reasons, but the lesson of preserving beauty – Aphrodite's lesson – was the one I enjoyed the most. For, let's face it, being a woman – being feminine- is an art; an art which is very complicated to master and which requires years of dedication to complete (if there ever is a completion).

In fact, my mother was so famous for her creations that we even had requests from neighbors to pass them around. As time passed she started exchanging them for products we couldn't produce (most people didn't have money to give), going as far as to strike up deals with women form the neighboring villages.

That was one of the reasons Victor was such a vital addition to our family. After mama had passed away I continued producing them (she had taught me from an early age) and with the help of our horse I could travel to the other villages and sell, even in the heart of winter.

After I was done with my bath, finally relaxed and comfortable in my nightgown (albeit a little tired) I heated a cup of milk over the fire-place, and, book in hand, ascended the staircase to my room. Keeping only one candle lit, I lay it on my night-table and headed towards my window sill. It was big enough to be considered a bench and as I opened the glass a nice cool breeze hit my fatigued form. It was kind of rejuvenating, actually.

At nights when I wasn't too exhausted, I loved sitting for a while at my window. It overlooked the forest; in the distance I could clearly see the landlords' castle and also hear the river. Admittedly not the best view in a matter of context; I had come to despise the wealthy, self-centered and indifferent ruler for taking no interest in our lives, apart from extracting his rent.

But even _I_ had to admit his castle was a breathtaking building. In nights like these I liked to imagine an entire different scenario for the inhabitants of the magnificent castle; namely, I would picture a happy couple enjoying their solitude together; away from the world and its problems, living peacefully with no responsibilities and involved in nothing more than the ruling of their own castle. I guess you could say that, at the end of the day, I was something of a romantic.

Slowly sipping my warm milk I relished in the scenery and took the moment to feel grateful for everything me and papa had. It would not do well to be ungrateful.

My eyes started closing involuntarily, and though I knew I should definitely close the window and turn in for the night, I felt comfortable gazing at the scenery and just dreaming of what could be. I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep, till Azor barked at something and startled me.

Feeling a little disoriented, I hastily shut the window and headed to my bed, blew out the candle and tucked my-self under the covers, succumbing to Morpheus.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello everyone!

I appologise for the delay, but the past week was a bit hectic.

In this chapter things get a little more serious, since finally the action is starting! I really hope you all like it!

Oh and thank you for following the story! The fact that people are reading my words fills me with profound joy! Love you all!

As always **R&amp;R**

* * *

Chapter 4

'Helene! Helene wake up!' at the sound of my father shouting my name, I sat up, abruptly being pulled out of my blissful state of sleep.

It took a moment to realize where I was, frantically looking around my room, searching for the source of all the noise. As I slowly regained my bearings, my mind registered another kind of sound; a sort of machine running.

'Helene come quick! I completed it, honey! I finally perfected it!' papa's voice was ecstatic and as realization dawned on me, I thrust aside the covers and, barefooted, rushed down the stairs.

Sebastian was at the door, holding it with one hand his mask and goggles pulled up on the top of his head. He was waiting for me, almost jumping up and down with excitement. My thoughts were in disarray, but of one thing I was certain: he had finished the contraption he was working on for so long.

As I approached him, he took my right hand and led me out the door and down the external stairs to our front yard. He didn't waste a second as he continued heading towards the basement. Once we had descended the stairs he turned to face me:

'After so long I finally finished it, Helene!' he was smiling so wide I thought his head would explode; I'd never seen him this excited; just like a little boy on Christmas.

'With this, all our troubles will be over! We will not have to struggle this hard everyday!' he went on, but I was a bit confused; you see, he had never explained what exactly it was he was working on so vigorously. I had questioned him about it, but he was reluctant to disclose any details. I had always thought it was because he didn't want to jinx it.

'Papa, wait, slow down. What exactly did you make?' I asked stepping aside to see; curiosity was raging inside me, but, filled with disbelief, I wasn't inclined to believe that a machine of any sort (even one made by my father) was enough to solve all our hardships. Such wishful thinking led nowhere.

It's time to tell you what all my work is about' he commenced going to stand in front of the contraption. 'With this machine we will be able to extract ores from the mines up the hill!' he was so excited and full of pride for his creation. But one thing did not exactly sit well with me.

'What are you talking about, papa? The mines have been closed down and unused for years. We can't just start working in there again.' I started panicking at what might happen. No one could simply walk in abandoned mines and start extracting again.

'I know sweetheart, trust me we've thought of everything. That was why I spend so much time on making this' he gestured to his left and began showing me how it worked. Half of what he said I didn't quite understand, but one thing captured my attention.

'Papa, hold on, what do you mean "we" thought of everything?' he stopped short in his movements but failed to make eye contact.

'Papa?' I pressed and he finally spoke.

'I made a deal with our Landlord' he said looking slowly at me. My silence urged him to continue.

'I presented to him all the advantages in exploiting the mines and after he "contemplated" the proposal, he accepted and gave me all the resources I needed.'

'When did this all happen?' I asked incredulously.

'About half a year ago' he said nonchalantly as if we were discussing routine. A bad feeling crept up my spine at that moment; the Landlord? No one had seen him in years and papa just happened to walk up to his castle and talk business?

'And he received you _and_ accepted your proposal?' I couldn't help the disbelief that was oozing out of every pore of my body.

'Don't worry, Helene, everything is under control and thought of meticulously. This is a good thing' at that last remark he seemed to try to convince himself. His brow furrowed and he started assembling the creation to put it on a cart.

'But papa, since when do we associate with him? He is our Landlord and a proud one at that, how did he even agree to all this?' I still had problems with wrapping my mind around the whole situation; I just couldn't seem to shake off the uneasy feeling.

'My, my, dear daughter, are we a bit of a snob?' he gave me an ironic smile and I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes at him; if he was using sarcasm then the world was surely coming to an end. My father was never sarcastic; never. In fact, I wasn't so sure he knew that sarcasm existed, and now, all of a sudden, he's making snide little remarks? This was turning out to be an incredible morning.

Suddenly remembering the time and all the chores that were waiting to be done, I snapped out of my haze and decided to trust the inventor; to trust his view of the world (so different from others and myself). If he was so confident that the Landlord would fulfill his end of the bargain, than surely novel and prosperous advantages would appear for the village; maybe even the neighboring ones as well.

'All right then, since you see a way-out in all this, then I really have no right to question you papa' I said shrugging.

'I knew you'd see it, one way or another! I'm telling you, everything will start looking much better for us from now on.' He started wrapping the cart with ropes and cloths to cover the machine. We were now at the backyard, which adjoined the other door of the basement and I watched my father as he finished up.

'Where are you going with it?' it was a routine question by my part, since I already knew where he could be headed with the load. I was pretty sure he wanted to test it at the mines and was half expecting him to wound up some villagers for help. So imagine my surprise when the destination he presented me with, was not the old mines.

'I'm heading to the castle to show him how it works.' Papa sounded almost guarded, whereas I could only gape at him.

'You're going to see _him_? _Now_?' I was near hysterical; no one had ever dared bother him in the castle; no one had ever gone there for any reason. Our business with him was done through his sinister-looking employees, who, mind you, never missed a month of gathering the rent. To say that papa's explanation was _odd_ would be the understatement of the century.

'Come now, Helene, I've already been to see him once. Not taking his temper into account, he is a pretty decent guy.'

'I don't know papa, all of this is just so sudden.' I rubbed my arms; standing at the door opening, I was practically outside and the early morning cold was brutal. Although I was convinced the weather was not the only thing responsible for my shivering.

He came close to me and kissed my forehead; an act that always soothed me when I was little.

'There isn't anything to worry about. Once I show him how well the machine works everything will be set into motion like clockwork. Trust me.' He winked and went to prepare Victor for the journey.

I headed back into the house to change and eat some breakfast before setting out to M. Pierre with the promised eggs and milk. When I returned downstairs, papa had already changed into a fresh pair of clothes and was adjusting some last straps on Victor. Descending the stairs and heading towards them, I gave Victor a little treat ( a sugar coated apple) and patted his head. Whispering a few reassuring words in his ear and telling him to bring papa back safe, I turned to my father and wished him a safe trip.

'I should be back tomorrow, Helene. We would have to start planning the job and I intend to bring all the villagers' attention to this matter. There is much to do ahead of us!' and with that he was off. I waved in his direction, silently hoping everything would turn out just how he planned it would.

* * *

'You're father went where?' Pierre was taken aback by my answer. As I was in his shop delivering the promised goods, he asked me how Sebastian was these days; he hadn't seen him for some while at the tavern.

I bit my lip, unsure on how to continue; I hadn't had the chance to discuss all the details with papa concerning the situation with the mines and how many people should actually be notified yet. It was left unclear if we should disclose any information on the subject.

And so closing my basket and drawing with that movement a wall between me and Pierre, I tried to sidetrack the conversation.

'Yes well he went to meet the Landlord to discuss a matter of business' I said rather vaguely. Unsurprisingly I wasn't fooling him.

Although he was my most favorite person in the village, outside my own family, I was still wary of him, not completely trusting him with everything. His background was all too vague and shrouded in mystery, so I preferred to keep my distance.

'Business? With the Landlord? At the castle?' his questions were so unrestrained and forward, demonstrating a true bewilderment and disbelief. I was desperately trying to hide my nervousness so I chose to go on the offence.

'Why is that so hard to believe M. Pierre?' at that he attempted to compose himself. Taking his handkerchief out of an inner pocket of his jacket, he swept it across his forehead with a light trembling of his hand. My own nervousness increased tenfold, but due to another factor; why on earth would the calmest, most serene person in the village get all sweaty at a mere mention of a meeting with the Landlord?

When he didn't answer, I approached him seeking his eyes; he was suddenly busy with taking the eggs and milk I brought him and putting them into other bags.

'M. Pierre?' I pressed. He relented and exhaling deeply he looked straight at me, sympathy coloring his gaze.

'It's nothing, really, dear, just that our Landlord never seemed keen on communicating with us in the past, that's all. I thought it was odd.'

'Monsieur, forgive me but are you at all acquainted with him? It seems you know him very well as to get nervous by a mere mention of him.' I couldn't help my honesty; worries over the wellbeing of my father had made me more determined and more forward to get answers, and quick.

'Nervous? No, no dear, not at all.' He said waving his hand dismissively. He clearly did not want to speak of this anymore. For some reason, he seemed to want to be out of this whole situation. So I indulged, knowing all too well that if he did not want to give information on any subject, no matter how hard I tried, he simply would not. It was the reason why little was known of his previous life.

'Do you think papa will have problems with him?' I had to ask. I was half ready to go to the castle and collect my father myself if I heard something I didn't like.

'Oh no, Mlle. I trust your father to know what he's doing. You should too.' He regained his playfulness and easy manner and so I calmed down a bit.

After all, he was right; papa may be a little odd, but he certainly wasn't an imbecile. He always knew what he was doing.

Thanking M. Pierre once more for the book, I took my leave, heading swiftly back home to attend to the neglected chores that would only pile up the longer I put them off.

* * *

Turning page after page, I immersed myself in my book at the end of the day. I had finished everything that needed to be done, cooked some warm soup and had already taken my ceremonial bath and was now enjoying a few blissful hours of reading, perched up on my favorite armchair.

With the exception of my slight discomfort on account of my father and his whereabouts, I was feeling pretty content and cheerful. That is until the doorbell rang.

Wondering who it could possibly be at this hour, my mind went straight to my father; had something happened to him on his way back?

Looking through the tiny whole on the door, my heart fell to the soles of my feet once the newcomer was identified; Lestrainge Bouchard was steadily becoming something of a pain in the rear.

Sighing loudly I cried out to him asking what he wanted.

'Just to see you Helene. I must ask you something.' He sounded cheerful.

Resisting the urge to triple lock the door and send him away, I finally let him in cursing the day we met.

He lunged forward into the house like the brute he was, shouting incoherent sentences about the inventors' weird house. I chose not to comment on his ranting, since I noticed a whiff of alcohol as he strode by. Closing the door slowly, I braced myself for what was to come, feeling a little uneasy; a drunken Lestrainge was never good news and, last time we saw each other, we didn't exactly part on the friendliest of terms. What was more, I didn't have Azor in the house with me.

'My sweet, sweet Helene I came to ask a favor of you.' He began slumping on my favorite armchair and slamming his muddy boots on the table in front of him. I rushed over to free my book from under his boots all the while cursing under my breath. He didn't seem to notice my discomfort however.

'What is it that you want Lestrainge that couldn't wait till morning?' I tried to sound pleasant; really I did. But I failed miserably.

'I actually need your father's help on our next hunting trip. Me and the boys were talking yesterday, you know, after we parted ways, and we decided to hunt a little further in the woods this time. But we will need some of Sebastian gear to help us.' How he managed to constantly speak with a smug and devil-may-care attitude was beyond me and my patience limits.

'I'll inform him that you want his help, though I doubt he will be able to; you know he is not much into hunting and I couldn't imagine in which way he could assist in your trip.' I said as I tenderly brushed the mud off the book covers. It was going to leave a stain.

'Well of course you can't understand, darling, you're a woman; why don't you call him for me so I can talk to him directly' he actually had the audacity to wink at me, the stench of the wine filling the room.

Resisting the urge to throw the scraps of food I had gathered for the pigs in his face, I plastered my most polite smile on, and informed the unwanted guest of my fathers' absence.

'He isn't here? Well where is he?' he questioned getting up. In our small living room his form seemed even huger than it was out in the open.

'He is away on business, Lestrainge, so if you would please leave now, I would like to turn in. I will inform him of your request the moment he returns, but till then I'm afraid I am of no use to you.' I gestured toward the door and was about to walk towards it and open it when he grabbed my hand for the second time that week, and, with the full force of his form, slammed me against the door. My back ached as the doorknob pressed in my flesh and my breath hitched as the air was forcefully blown out of me.

'Lestrainge what are you-

'Seeing you in your little nightgown resisting me and telling me to leave, makes me want to take you here and now' his mouth was at my ear, his voice low and husky. My eyes grew wide with shock; Lestrainge never behaved like this before; ever. I had always half thought all his advances to be lighthearted; as a joke even. Although I had to take into account his drunken state.

Of course, yesterdays' incident was certainly out of the ordinary. However, the present situation was beyond anything I had ever experienced before. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of a man; the realization that I was alone in the house in the outskirts of the village, with no one to hear or help me, was slowly pumping adrenaline in my body.

He had caught both my hands and pulled them above my head, steadying them there, while his other hand wandered.

Everywhere.

My waist, my back, momentarily resting on my neck, where he proceeded to check my pulse, like the hunter he was.

'So the little beauty knows fear' he contemplated out loud mocking me; he traced his nose up and down my neck inhaling deeply. I shivered out of disgust at his proximity and tried to break free. Of course he was much stronger.

'I can smell fear you know. That's why I'm so good at hunting. All animals smell differently when they sense someone hunting them.' His hand was now tracing the side of my torso all the way to my hip.

'I must admit, I love the way your fear smells, Helene. So much I want to taste it' he half groaned in longing, before he crushed his lips on mine. He had hitched my left leg over his waist, forcefully pressing into me with his hips, while at the same time he plunged his tongue in my mouth. He had caught my jaw and pressed his strong fingers on either side to yank it open, surely bruising my face. He seemed to get even more excited as I involuntarily yelped in pain.

I was overwhelmed by him; his scent, his touch, his taste where everywhere; musky and filled with alcohol, rough and bitter. My mind started working in overdrive, as I tried to find a way to disengage myself. Since struggling out of his grip was not an option, I had to do something else, more violent; enough to inflict pain on him, so it would momentarily distract him.

And as he had unashamedly spread my legs and positioned his groin up against me, I wasn't able to kick him where it hurts the most.

Thus, I decided to make him bleed.

As he was vulgarly exploring my mouth with his tender appendage, my teeth came forcefully down and bit him deep.

He yanked his head backward, loosening his grip on my hands for just a second, and so I tugged my left arm free and pushed at his torso. He was surprised at my biting him, but it didn't seem to bother him much. Spitting the blood from his mouth to his side and soiling our carpet, he only smirked at me, smiling deviously.

Damn.

He was enjoying it. Of course he was enjoying it; he was a sadistic son of b*tch who loved killing other beings just so he could watch the life drain out from their limp forms. He thrived on battling and winning. He wanted me to fight back so his triumph can be all the more victorious.

I didn't let him regroup however as I opened the door with my free hand. As I unlocked it, I kept my grip on the doorknob while he plunged forward in the icy night. Lestrainge found himself falling down the external stairs. Not wasting a second, I quickly closed the door again and locked it tight. For good measure I dragged a chair and put it against the door.

Panting slightly at the adrenaline rush, I went about the house making sure all doors and windows were locked.

Returning to the living room I checked out the window to see where he was. He must have had quite some wine to drink, for he was just then getting up. As he stumbled his way back to the village, he muttered something incoherently while periodically turning to shout something in my direction. I didn't make out much, but it looked like he was threatening to not let this matter drop so easily.

Once he disappeared from eyeshot, I took deep breaths in order to calm my nerves. I felt disgusted and repulsed. More so due to the fact that _that_ was my first kiss. Irritated I cursed Lestrainge for fixating on me of all people and vowed never to let him near me again.


End file.
